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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969614">Stepping Into Big Shoes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain'>TellMeNoAgain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Holiday Ficmas 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All the Grief Feels, Because honestly would you trust it's a fic of mine if there's not spanking inside?, Domestic Discipline, F/M, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Harley Keener is a Good Heir, I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, M/M, Misuse of BARF technology, Not A Fix-It, Pepper/Tony mentioned and if that's a thing for you I imagine it's really hard to watch the movies, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Prior Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Spanking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony saved the world, and Peter's grateful, he really is, but sometimes, sometimes he just wants his Tony back.</p><p>Harley eyes up the therapeutic hologram program Tony'd launched with the absolutely childish name of BARF, and thinks, <i> Maybe I can help with that. </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Holiday Ficmas 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stepping Into Big Shoes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetblues/gifts">alphabetblues</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WARNING:</p><p>If you have a lot of triggers, you might want to check the endnote where I describe the actual plot of this story.</p><p>Otherwise, proceed to the thank yous:</p><p>Thank you to venomondenim, for bitching to me about how Starker antis in the Parkner shipping world ruin all of your fun.  This is me, your fandom mama, saying you can have your pudding AND your ice cream and love them both, baby.  And also me setting out to make everyone cry while doing it, I guess.  </p><p>Thank you to jf4m and mindwiped, betas extraordinaire, and the cheerreading crew at Writer Buddies Discord server (link also in the endnote)</p><p>Please, please, please, for the love of fuck, figure out your aftercare for this one.  </p><p>All remaining errors are my own.  I'm a stubborn fuck, sometimes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The leaves crunch underfoot as Peter trudges to class.  He hates this walk and all the leaves, everywhere, because MIT is insane with trees right outside his dorm and they get everywhere and the wind bleows them into tiny tornadoes that attack his face and his spider sense tracks every single movement like a potential threat and they smell bad.</p><p>Or maybe he just hates them because it means time continues to pass.</p><p>It shouldn’t, in this world without Tony.  The leaves should stay green and the summertime should stretch out forever, and the school year shouldn’t be starting, again, and Pepper had called him to remind him that there’s a position with SI waiting for him and he didn’t need a damn degree but <em>Peter</em> needed the degree and so here he is, in Cambridge, walking through fall leaves that shouldn’t exist, his senses panicking and screaming at him to prepare to dodge invisible assailants.</p><p>He shouldn’t have to take classes at Stark Hall, he thinks mutinously, turning to head to the building Tony’s money had endowed.  Who cares that it’s got all the state of the art mechanics labs and great views and the room layouts make sense, and there are so many accessibility supports built in that it’s comfortable enough to practically live in the place?  It’s got Tony tucked everywhere and Peter shouldn’t have to have classes inside.</p><p>He can probably kick up enough of a fuss to get his classes moved, with the weight of Stark Industries behind him, but it would serve no purpose because the whole thing- all of MIT- is Tony.</p><p>“Hey, Parker,” says Harley quietly, slamming into his shoulder, and why the fuck did his spidersense not care about Keener?!  “You ok, man?”</p><p>“Just... having a day,” sighs Peter.</p><p>“Yeah, I get that,” says Harley, his feet crunching louder than Peter’s through the leaves.  “Fucking fall and the changing of the seasons, right?  Time marches on.”</p><p>Peter glares at the ramp to the building and mutters, “Yeah.”  Fuck Harley for understanding.</p><p>“You heading to Wallace’s lecture, or uh, is this Johnson?  I can’t keep track,” sighs Harley.</p><p>He <em>shouldn’t</em> keep track, Peter thinks a little resentfully.  Keener’s big brother routine is getting really annoying to Peter’s only child sensibilities.   “Wallace,” he grunts.</p><p>“I remember those days,” intones Harley, like he’s ancient and decrepit and wasn’t taking Wallace just last year.  </p><p>Peter shrugs.</p><p>“Pepper tell you about the SI Halloween party?” asks Harley as they navigate bustling hallways.</p><p>“Oh, uh, yeah,” Peter says, shrugging again.  He’s not going.  He’s going home and he’s going to spend Halloween with Ned and MJ and Aunt May, they’ll watch stupid movies or hand out candy or-</p><p>“Cool,” says Harley, and then peels off, just like that, heading for his class with a quick, “Later, Parker!” tossed over his shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, later,” mutters Peter, sliding into the lecture hall and taking his spot in the back right corner, resigning himself to listening to amazing physics ideas and equations and thoughts and theories coming from the most boring voice on the planet.  It’s a juxtaposition that has probably separated the real physicists from the chaff for decades at MIT.  If you can love physics when it’s coming at you in a voice designed to make you fall asleep, physics is definitely the future for you.</p><p>Physics is part of Tony Stark’s legacy to the world.</p><p>Physics is part of Peter Parker’s future, in this fucked up world without Tony.</p><p>He opens his laptop to take notes and puts the soft ever-chewy stylus Tony made for him between his teeth, avoiding the other students by absorbing himself in a review of the material before Wallace clears his throat and begins to drone.  </p><p>~~~</p><p>
  <em>No, staying here - MJ</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dude, my frat’s throwing a Best Science Costume contest, and I’m winning it -Ned</em>
</p><p>Even May has plans this Halloween, plans that include Happy Hogan, goddamnit.</p><p>Peter picks up the phone and actually places a call.</p><p>“Hey y’all,” drawls the thick voice of Harley, “what’s up?”  He adds so many syllables to the question that it becomes a caricature, almost a joke.  Peter sneers, and then fixes his face and his attitude.  Keener doesn’t deserve that.  Any of that.  At all.</p><p>“You going to the SI Halloween party?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” drawls Harley.</p><p>“Can I-” goddamnit, it just makes sense, he’s not a younger brother begging to tag along, Peter reminds himself.  “Can I catch a ride with you?”</p><p>“Shit, yeah,” laughs Harley, and Peter realizes the other man is- <em>affected, influenced, drunk or otherwise disabled</em>.  “Kimbo, make a note.  We’ll be escorting the gentleman to the ball.”</p><p>A voice over the line makes Peter’s heart race.  It’s a twin to KAREN’s voice, with the smallest hint of twang, as it says, “Got it, hoss.”</p><p>“There ya go, kid,” drawls Harley.  “Gotta go, though.  Busy busy!”</p><p>In the background, noise bursts loudly and people cheer for Harley in the second before Harley hangs up.</p><p>Peter sits still, holding the phone and thinking about Tony, Tony’s reputation for partying hardy and thoroughly, especially while in college.  He thinks about Tony, and how Tony had stepped away from so many galas and society functions, stepped aside into another room just to take a call from him, and how at the end of the call, when he’d open the door to return, Peter’d realize <em>oh God</em>, he’d just interrupted something.</p><p><em>Harley’s got a brilliant brain and a backpack full of issues,</em> Happy had said at the funeral, but then he’d chuckled and asked Peter, <em>sound familiar?</em></p><p>Peter tries to pretend the fact that Harley must have taken his call in a quiet room of his clearly full-swing crazy college party doesn’t make his heart skip a beat.  </p><p>It’s just an ingrained response, anyway.  Peter’s well aware he’s got abandonment issues and being Tony’s protege has trained him to read way too much into the small gestures of commitment and caring.  It means nothing that Harley took his call in the middle of a party, nothing that Harley stepped away from the party and took the call with no sign of irritation in his voice.</p><p>It means nothing.</p><p>Peter turns back to his open textbook with a grimace and lifts up his stylus.  At least he has plans, now, for Halloween.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Hey, Parker!” shouts Harley, jogging up from Peter’s left.  “Pep wants to know if you’ve already got a costume planned?”</p><p>“What?” asks Peter, pulling up and out of the spider suit schematic he’s messing with in his brain to meet Harley’s glowing eyes.</p><p>“Your costume, Halloween, three days,” laughs Harley.  His face falls a little and he tilts his head, eyeing up Peter.  “‘nless <em>you</em> were the drunk one, and I was the sober one, and now you’re gonna say you don’t remember callin’ me?”</p><p>“No, I- yes, I’m going to Halloween at SI, with you, and no, I don’t have a costume,” sighs Peter, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder, giving up the schematic as a lost cause.  Most people leave him alone when he’s clearly lost in thought, around campus.  Only Harley.</p><p>“You mind wearin’ whatever her and Morgan pick out for us?” asks Harley cheerfully.  “Morgan’s got this idea, and they need two more?”</p><p>“Sure, yeah, that’d be perfect,” says Peter.</p><p>“That’s what I figured,” mutters Harley, shaking his head, and Peter can’t follow where the dark tone comes from, but when he looks up at Harley, the man’s sharp gaze makes him duck his head, for some reason.  “Well, Morgan’s got us,” Harley says firmly.  “Her and Pepper’ll kit us out, then.  You get Morgan’s picture yesterday?” he asks Peter.</p><p>Peter’s heart lifts briefly. “Oh, yeah!  First motherboard!”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Harley happily.  “She sent me all these videos, installin’ it, gonna fire it up on a screen this weekend for us, waitin’ for us to get there.”</p><p>Peter grins at the building in front of them.  “I can’t wait, she was so proud.”</p><p>Harley’s return grin is nearly blinding, when Peter glances over.  “Yeah, me too,” he agrees.  “Awww, shit, gotta jet, Michael’s pissy,” he says enigmatically, peeling off to Peter’s left.  “2 PM, though, Parker, be ready, huh?”</p><p>
“I will,” Peter reassures him, turning to walk up the path to his dorm room, kicking leaves out of his path.</p><p>Leaves that should be green, anyway.  God, Tony’d lose his mind over Morgan’s first motherboard, he’d be busting at the seams with pride, probably.  Peter’s never seen them together- he came back from the snap to a world empty of Tony- but Morgan loves her daddy and it’s clear from the videos and stories she’s shared with Peter that Tony loved her to pieces.  Loved her to pieces and challenged her and supported her and told her no so many times, made it stick, too, from the hushed way she says, <em>guns are not toys, Peter</em>-</p><p>
Peter swallows.  </p><p>Fucking fall leaves, anyway.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“I don’t see why I gotta be Luigi,” growls Harley at Morgan, waving a hand at his costume.</p><p>“You’re taller,” she giggles up at him, the Toadstool mushroom cap on her head falling back a little and choking her.  Peter rushes forward to help re-settle it and she smiles up at him.  “And Peter <em>looks</em> like Mario.”</p><p>“Red is my color,” Peter assures her.  She beams up at him and then turns to Pepper, who glows in a diaphanous gown of pink, pink, and more pink.  “Mommy, tell Harley he has to be happy about the Luigi,” Morgan orders imperiously.</p><p>“You can always take it off,” Pepper offers Harley warmly.  </p><p>“No, no, I just- next year we do this again and I get to be Mario,” Harley bargains with Morgan.</p><p>“<em>Next</em> year, we’re gonna be Minecraft,” Morgan declares.  “When I’m six I can play it.  Dad said.”</p><p>Pepper hums, her eyes twinkling just a little as she teases,  “Who are we to go against your father’s wishes for your video game education, my fair Toadstool?”</p><p>It hits Peter with the force of 3,000 hammers, how she can- how <em>they </em>can- so <em>casually</em>- reference the hole in their lives, the loss of-</p><p>Harley bumps shoulders with him and says, “All right, Mario, lets’a go meet’a and greet’a the people.”</p><p>
“Me first!” shrieks Morgan, throwing her arms wide to block anyone from slipping past her, as Pepper slips her arm into Peter’s comfortably.</p><p>“You really, really should talk to someone,” Pepper suggests quietly, as they walk behind the shrieking Morgan and the evil-madman-laughing Harley, trying not very hard to get in front of her.</p><p>Peter nods, and then spits, “But- Pepper- who?”</p><p>“SHIELD,” suggests Pepper quietly.  “Or mine.  Someone, Peter.  I know it hits- without warning, and it stops me, too.  It stops me all the time, living here, in this life we built, this company we- it stops me, Peter, and sometimes I need to- collect- myself again, and move forward.”</p><p>“Yeah,” agrees Peter dully.  “Can we- not-”</p><p>“Fine. I’m giving you until Christmas, Peter Parker,” says Pepper firmly, patting his arm.  His breath escapes him in a sigh, every tense muscle relaxing again.  Pepper is as good as her word- if she says she’ll drop it until Christmas, it’ll be dropped.</p><p>Morgan tugs on the door handle while Harley pushes the door closed, both of them snapping and hissing at each other.  Pepper pats his arm once more and says, “Toadstool, you come protect me, the gentlemen can get the door.”</p><p>Peter draws a shaky breath and steps up beside Harley, who pats him on the back companionably as they open the door together, to let Tony Stark’s family step into the reception room, bright lights flashing and Morgan taking her role as her mom’s defender very seriously indeed.</p><p>He has until Christmas to figure out how to stop telegraphing how every reminder kills him.  Fine.  He can do that.  Two months isn’t unreasonable.</p><p>~~~</p><p>His phone rings, startling him into dropping the stylus from his mouth and snatching it up, thumbing the touchscreen without checking the caller ID.  “Hey, hey, hello-” he stammers, and then, wincing, “Who is this?”</p><p>“Hiya, Parker,” drawls Harley.  “Come to my lab, ‘s under Stark Hall, second sub-basement, 2H, ‘s on the map, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, yes,” says Peter, closing the laptop, heart beginning to race.  “Wait, you- need me?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” agrees Harley.  “Ain’t an emergency.”</p><p>“Be… right there,” agrees Peter, throwing on a coat and a hat.  It’s cold, at this time of night, cold and crisp and there’d been snow the week before, just a dusting, nothing stuck, but real snow.</p><p>Harley doesn’t meet him at the door to the lab, calling him in further. “Hey, you remember that thing, the Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing thing, vomit or whatever?  That Tony cooked up?”</p><p><em>Yeah</em>.  Peter remembers that pretty damn clearly, from Beck’s insane attempt to measure his dick against his dead boss’s, destroying so much of the world Tony died to save.  <em>Yeah</em>. He remembers it.</p><p>“It’s a shit name,” continues Harley, tossing a pair of glasses at Peter.  “But- I think I got it calibrated.”</p><p>“What?” asks Peter.  He’s not going <em>into</em> a hologram again.  That was- those days were some of the worst days of his life, he’s not going voluntarily into a hologram again.</p><p>“Put the glasses on, take a look,” says Harley nonchalantly.  “You only got like six weeks left to get that solution Pepper wanted, and I figured- I know you had something tight with him, maybe he’s the one you wanna talk to.”</p><p>Peter’s heart skips a beat.  “Uh-” he says, and then he slips the glasses on, shocked by how there’s nothing, at first, but the lab.</p><p>“Yeah, got it set for the privacy cage, in the back,” explains Harley.  “Figured, you might cry or stuff, wouldn’t want anyone to hear, so, been working on it- nothing can get in or out, kinda modeled on what I could find from the X-men’s Danger Room setup?  Figured might keep you in shape, too, for the Spider stuff, when you’re ready to get back to that.”  He presses a hand to Peter’s shoulder and guides him through the lab, so similar and so different to Tony’s- projects scattered everywhere half-disassembled, half-reconstructed, half obviously cannibalised for other, more pressing projects.  “So, step inside, go <em>talk</em> to someone, Parker.  Someone you’ll actually <em>talk </em>to.”</p><p>Peter hears the door click shut and squeezes his eyes tight.  He doesn’t <em>want</em> to be here, to hear-</p><p>“Peter?” asks Tony, delighted.  Peter’s heart stops, his blood frozen in his veins, the world swooping dizzily around him.  “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Peter keeps his eyes tightly shut as his heart ramps up to racing at a pace that <em>cannot</em> be sustainable and it sounds <em>so much</em> like the real Tony, like the Tony in every video he’s ever replayed, every voicemail, every-  “Hi,” he squeaks, eventually.</p><p>“Are you squeezing your eyes shut, Underoos?” laughs Tony.  “Why the hell-?”</p><p>“I- um- you’re dead,” says Peter bluntly.</p><p>“Sure, but Peter, doesn’t that mean I can’t hurt you?” asks Tony reasonably.  The sound of footsteps is all that Peter can hear- he has no idea what Harley built this privacy room out of, but nothing gets in, which reassures Peter that nothing can get out.</p><p>Peter can feel the touch of a hand on his face, and tilts his chin up to follow the gentle pressure against his cheek and jawline.  He takes a shaky breath and says, “I miss you.”</p><p>And then his world falls apart, again, more completely than it has since the first moment he’d watched the video of Tony snapping away his life to give Peter back his own.</p><p>The words, “I miss you,” figure prominently in his nearly-incoherent sobbing, and it turns out he doesn’t have to open his eyes much at all to talk to someone.</p><p>~~~</p><p>No one really knows all the things Tony and Peter were to each other, that’s the whole problem.  Pepper and Peter talk about it sometimes, because they’re the only two in the whole world who know what it’s like to lose Tony when he’s the center of the world and the magnetism that defined how you’d stand firm and not drift away.  And that’s what she’d meant, that she’d share her shrink with Peter, if he wanted to talk, an offer that her shrink’s already aware of that- that extra dimension Peter and Tony had going on.  Peter swallows as he remembers the thrill of midnight kisses after mission completion, of earning Tony’s attention and praise by being singular and the best, by proving time and again that he was a match for the man in more ways than just intellect.  Pepper knows all that, and her shrink knows all that, and it’s been more than a year, and he should just- he should probably find someone else.  Or something.  Make his peace.</p><p>But he can’t just go to her shrink, because he’s still Spiderman, and his half of Tony is caught up in the superhero gig, in ways Pepper’s shrink <em>can’t know about</em>.  So that means SHIELD’s resident shrinks, who can’t know about the personal attention Tony’d- he’d- they’d had, the way Tony had filled the empty spot of paternal figure and the empty boyfriend slot, too, in a weird, perfect mesh that will <em>never</em> happen again, for Peter.</p><p>Pepper can go date and she may never have another Tony again- there’s no one like the man on the face of the planet- but she’ll be able to find someone to be a partner.  Like, an equal, like Tony was.  Someone who loves her and challenges her and drives her nuts.</p><p>Peter, however, is shit out of luck, because convincing the man to kiss him had taken months, even with everything just kind of falling into place, even with everything being perfect, and he’s not going to find that again, ever.  </p><p>He knows it.</p><p>And maybe that’s why he starts to haunt Harley’s privacy cell nightly.  Or <em>daily</em>, too, sometimes he slips in as a reward for getting his work done without procrastination- earning those minutes with Tony’s voice and Tony’s approval, the man’s excitement and enthusiasm, the way his eyes crinkle when he looks just at Peter.</p><p>But Harley programmed the code, and Harley <em>didn’t know</em>.  He didn’t know that Tony would be capable of growling at Peter, “Got your homework all done, Peter?” and then shoving Peter against a surface- any surface- to grind him there, the way his eyes would glint brightly when Peter inevitably came in his jeans, sticky boxers shoved to Peter’s knees so that Tony could tease him darkly about how young he was and how that made Tony the dirty old man.  Harley’d <em>never</em> seen Tony’s stern disapproving look, when Peter was caught in some idiocy, and the way the man would glare and growl at Peter until Peter conceded and draped himself over Tony’s lap for a more tactile reminder to <em>be safe</em> and <em>be smart</em> and <em>do the right thing, not the Tony thing.</em></p><p>Harley didn’t know any of that, so Peter memorizes Harley’s schedule and slips into the lab during Harley’s classes, when he can, building up the code, adding the information it needs to re-create <em>who Tony was for Peter</em>, not just Tony but <em>Sir</em>, and <em>Mr. Stark</em>, the guy who, yes, was there to listen to everything, and was there to encourage and enthuse.  The guy who understood the math, and who could follow big leaps from theory to practical application, but also the guy who took delight in applying some practical theory to Peter’s ass, however he needed it.  However they wanted it, that was always the rule, they always had to want it, both of them, although no matter what idea popped into either one of them, it always seemed to be matched by a spark of interest from the other, so the rule hadn’t once been tested.</p><p>Peter codes and codes, marveling at the work and the intellect he can see so clearly in the code already embedded, shocked a little by how Harley makes <em>leaps</em> in his coding that Peter scrambles to follow.  He codes in every free second and lives for the random minutes when he can slip down to the lab and upgrade the program, making it more and more <em>his</em> Tony.</p><p>Harley sees him almost every night, now, before he slides into the privacy cell.  They talk about classes and theories and whatever Harley’s working on.  Peter’s helped him out a couple of times, because he <em>owes</em> the guy so much, for building this haven.  Harley’s eyebrows had flown and he’d leaned in, excited, as Peter’d made the suggestion to expand the arch and reinforce it with triangle structural support.  He’d smelled really, ridiculously good, leaning over the schematic.  So good Peter’d had to lean back, just a bit, feeling guilty.  He didn’t- he never noticed other men, before Tony- before the after-Tony life began.  </p><p>The air outside begins to smell, not of crisp fresh fall leaves, but of rotten pumpkins and the bitter bite of cold.</p><p>Peter codes faster.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“You get your homework done?” breathes Tony, pinning Peter to the wall, arms captured by Tony’s hands at the wrist above him, and rubbing against him, full bodied and strong.  Christ, he even <em>smells </em>like Tony, how’d- that wasn’t one of Peter’s upgrades, how’d Harley simulate <em>smell</em>?</p><p>“Y-yes, Sir,” breathes Peter, tossing his head back because <em>fuck</em>, all the times Tony had taunted him with that, he’d put that all into the code and the code had- had-</p><p>“Well, young man,” teases Tony, and Peter’s eyes almost crosses, “we still need to have a talk about last time, don’t we?”</p><p>“What?” pants Peter.  “Tony, what?”</p><p>“How many times did I tell you that you needed to come for me?” demands Tony, grinding his erection against Peter’s hipbones, grinding Peter’s ass flat against the wall.</p><p>“F-four,” gasps Peter.</p><p>“And you <em>left</em> after <em>three</em>, Peter,” grunts Tony.  “You think I suddenly forget the little details, just because you left here looking like a wrecked goddamn twink?”</p><p>It’s so close- so very much the words and the tone and the feel- that Peter’s breath catches in his throat, giddiness bursting from his chest outward.  “N-no, Sir,” he stammers, flushing.</p><p>“Devil’s in the details, Peter,” chuckles Tony, that same dark tone that always- that did stuff, still, apparently, Peter reeling and gasping and defenseless against it.  “Bed.”</p><p>He releases Peter and settles on the bed, legs spread, hand tapping impatiently on his thigh, while Peter draws deep breaths and tries not to do a victory dance.  </p><p>He <em>did</em> it.  He- it- the code- it all <em>works</em>, this is <em>so right</em>, this is <em>perfect!</em></p><p>Tony’s eyes narrow and Peter flings himself from the wall, slipping down his sweatpants and boxers and tossing himself across Tony’s lap eagerly.  “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, sweetly, while he’s still coherent, and then his breath catches.</p><p>He’s apologizing, <em>to Tony</em>.</p><p>Over Tony’s lap.</p><p>He’s done it dozens of times before, shouted and whimpered and begged and pleaded his apologies to the man.  But this time feels like the first time, only <em>better, </em>because he knows how to value what he’s about to receive.</p><p>The man’s hand slams down and Peter can’t help it, the tears hit too fast, all of the emotions whirling at once, the anger and the fear and the shame and the regret and the overwhelming grief, the overwhelming guilt that he’s <em>still here</em> and Tony’s <em>not</em>. He should have done something- why- why wasn’t he good enough?  Why couldn’t he- just once- do something right enough to save the man he loved?  First Dad and then Ben and then Tony- </p><p>“I think you’re crying for a lot more than a missed orgasm,” says Tony above him, quietly.  Peter hiccups, grasping for control, but Tony doesn’t let him down, the code <em>holds true</em>, because Tony adds, “and if that’s the case, you might as well settle in, because I’m here for it, as much as you need, Peter, you go ahead, I’ll spank you for every sin you committed and every miracle you didn’t work, and I’ll still be here spanking you until you’re ready to admit you don’t need- or deserve- any more.”</p><p><em>Such a Tony thing to say,</em> thinks Peter wildly, as Tony sets a randomized rhythm.  He’d worshipped the ground the man had flown over because the man was capable of thinking and saying and- and <em>doing</em> this kind of thing, of giving whatever Peter needed, of taking whatever mess Peter brought him and straightening it out until Point A traveled to Point B in a straight line.</p><p>And the thing is, the code continues to hold true, all through his sobbing cries and his stupidly worded apologies, all through the recriminations and the release of guilt, through everything, <em>everything</em>, Tony holding him, at last, facedown on the bed with his nose tucked into Tony’s neck, breathing in the <em>scent</em> of the man.  How had Harley programmed <em>scent?</em></p><p>The world outside the four walls of the privacy cell probably moves, people probably live and laugh and shout and fight, but Peter curls up in Tony’s arms limp and wrecked and worn out.</p><p>“You needed that, I think,” murmurs Tony quietly.</p><p>Peter nods wordlessly, eyes closed, listening to Tony’s idiosyncratic heartbeat, probably taken from medical scans, that’s how he would have done it.  Medical records, stored in JARVIS.  He should ask Harley next time he bumps into the guy.</p><p>“I love you,” Tony says quietly.</p><p>Peter sucks in a breath, heart shattering just a little.  He’ll have to fix that part of the code.  Tony never- he never said it, not like that, not directly.  He didn’t have to- they never did, not the two of them. Peter nuzzles in anyway and murmurs, “Ditto,” which makes Tony snort, but he’ll have to go in tomorrow and fix that part of the code.  It isn’t right.  Tony had never said it, and never would have, either.</p><p>He breathes in the scent of Tony, marveling again at Harley’s genius, and breathes out, his backside blazing and his thoughts tumbling aimlessly from topic to topic.  He’ll fix it tomorrow. </p><p>Tonight, he’s fixing himself.</p><p>~~~</p><p>But the code can’t be addressed the next day, or even the next, and then when he finds time to walk to Harley’s lab, the lab is <em>locked</em>, with a note taped on the door, “Sorry, Sciencefans, Finals Approacheth.”  So he trudges back to his dorm and flops into his computer chair, and then leans forward and tackles his own projects.  It’s a good reminder that the world marches on.</p><p>Taking a short break, he looks out the window at the barren ground and feels his breathing catch as he remembers his sobbed apologies to Tony, from across Tony’s familiar lap, and scrubs his face.  It isn’t shame, not really, not when what he’d done had made him feel so <em>good</em>, so calm and settled.  Like he’d been able to talk it out with Tony, for real, and receive absolution <em>for real</em>.  But the thought of Tony in that lab across campus, tucked into that cell, ready and waiting to reward him for getting his work done- or punish him for making stupid choices, well.</p><p>It’s an itch, under the skin.</p><p>A nasty itch, that grows worse with every day.</p><p>Peter knows it’s just a program, but it’s closer than anything he’d found in the year since the Second Snap.  It’s just a program, but it smells like Tony, it feels like Tony, and now, now it helps Peter navigate his life, like Tony.  </p><p>They had become so wrapped together, so fast, in those first few months of discovery, and he’d been left so unbalanced that <em>finding it again</em>, it’s impossible not to hope and wish for a way to just <em>keep using it</em>, forever and ever or until he has his own balance figured out.</p><p>Peter snorts.</p><p>Yeah.  </p><p>That’s unlikely.</p><p>The barren cold world outside fills with students as classes let out and they scurry to their next one, or home to work on the culminating projects of their classes.</p><p>Maybe the lab door will be open tonight.  </p><p>~~~</p><p>“Hey, Harley,” calls Peter, surprised to catch the man closing the lab door.  “Wait!”</p><p>“Peter,” says Harley, his face furrowing for a moment before clearing.  “Hey, been meaning to talk to you, sorry, the damn BARF machine’s got a glitch, I been working on it but finals hit hard, and FRIDAY’s been trying to help me track it down but you know how glitchy she gets this far out.”</p><p>“I do,” laughs Peter, giddy with relief.  “Can I come in and take a look?”</p><p>“Sure,” says Harley, shrugging, opening the door and bowing Peter through it ironically,  He closes it behind them and waves Peter over to a workstation full of screens.  “Here, I’ll pull up the glitch, let you take a look, think something from violence bled through somehow- here- I’ll show you.”</p><p>Harley’s hands flick through screens as confidently as Tony’s or Pepper’s ever had.  But then, Tony’d always been so good about setting Harley up with Tower equipment, once Harley’d made contact again, Peter remembers.  He leans in as Harley pulls up what looks like a recording of a session in the- <em>wait-</em>  “You record in the cell?” he asks faintly.</p><p>“Nah, not your sessions,” says Harley, as if he anticipated Peter’s fears.  “Just mine, after I release some new code, just in case.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s smart,” Peter tells him, uneasy despite the reassurance.  </p><p>“Yeah, well, I don’t want to- here, here,” says Harley, slowing the feed.</p><p>“-know what we need to do about <em>that,</em> don’t you, Harley?” asks the Tony on the screen.  Peter’s heart begins to race, as Tony invades Harley’s personal space.</p><p>“What?” asks Harley, sounding confused, as Tony grabs his arm.  “Are you- what the <em>fuck</em>, Tony?”</p><p>“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, I’ll teach you to take care of yourself,” says Tony sternly, and Peter closes his eyes, cheeks flushing, as onscreen Harley yelps, “What the <em>fuck</em>, Tony!” followed quickly by a bellow of, “Hell no, end program!” and another incredulous, “What the actual <em>fuck!</em>”</p><p>
Peter bit les his lip and forces his eyes open as Harley mutters, beside him, “So you can see, I mean, he was clearly gonna try to, I dunno, spank some sense into me or something, and so I’m guessing it’s coming from the pool of violence videos, right?  Like, he was always spouting off at the bad guys that they just needed a spankin’ or whatever, program just pulled too hard from that section, I guess, what do you think?”</p><p>What Peter <em>thinks</em> is, he really, really needs about six hours alone at these screens, re-coding all the programs he’d dropped, making a secondary matrix to house <em>his Tony</em> safe from the main program.  “I mean, that sounds reasonable,” he offers Harley, shrugging and trying to make his eyes look innocent, fiercely commanding the blush to <em>fuck off</em>, because now is<em>not the time</em>.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Harley, shoving a stylus in his mouth.  “Here, watch this, you think this’ll-” and then his hands fly through the code.</p><p>Peter watches as Harley sectiones off whole segments, creating firewalls for things that would never have concatenated anyway.  <em>Fuck</em>.  Harley’s going to find his code, given enough time, and he’s going to realize this was all deliberate, and so Peter needs Harley out of this lab <em>now</em>, and he can’t think of any way to make that happen.</p><p>“<em>If you’re not going to take care of yourself,” </em>rings Tony’s voice out of memory, interrupting that line of thought.</p><p>
Well.</p><p>That might be a smart way to distract the guy and pay him back for building the program for Peter that Peter then immediately perverted for his own purposes.</p><p>“Harley, let’s go eat and then come back to it,” offers Peter brightly.  “I’m drowning in finals and haven’t been off-campus in days.  Weeks.”  <em>Since Halloween.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, yeah, good idea,” says Harley, looking up at Peter over his shoulder.  He sits like that for a long time, studying Peter’s face before saying, “I want some Italian, you good with that?  Pizza?  Ravioli?”</p><p>“Yeah,” agrees Peter happily, batting away the coding screen, slipping it behind all of the projects Harley had up.  “There’s plenty of time to fix Tony later.”</p><p>Harley laughs.  “Yeah, I guess he ain’t even giving me a grade this semester, is he?  And that’s all us college types care about, huh?”</p><p>Peter smiles his relief at Harley as they walk to the door.  “I’m pulling straight As,” he brags.</p><p>Harley whistles.  “Well, color me impressed,” he drawls, as he locks up the lab and nods for Peter to lead the way out of the building.  “Oh, wait,” he adds, like the thought just occurred to him, “I ain’t impressed because I figured you would.  Don’t you ever fight with your profs?  Swear I got knocked down to a 3.98 just because one or two of ‘em is <em>wrong</em>, Peter, and I ain’t backing down and playing nice.”</p><p>And didn’t <em>that</em> sound familiar, chuckles a voice deep inside Peter fondly.</p><p>The voice won’t shut up, all through dinner, while Harley spouts off about this or that theory or practice, unable to shut up or back down about <em>any</em> subject, it seems, but more than willing to play nice and entertain Peter’s ideas, and Peter’s tortellini.  He ends up passing Peter most of his carbonara and requesting additional breadsticks for Peter six times, and Peter laughs and laughs internally at the barely-smooth ways Harley tries to distract him from the fact that the man eats more from <em>Peter’s</em> plate than Peter does.</p><p>Peter feels good, by the time Harley is dropping him off at his dorm room door, smiling and sated.</p><p>“Hey, come down and study in my lab, tomorrow,” offers Harley quickly, as Peter turns the key in the lock for his door.  “I’ll splurge and get us lunch delivered in.”</p><p>Peter looks at Harley for a long moment, hand on the doorknob gripping tightly, the good feeling slowly sinking as he realizes <em>how good</em> he’d been feeling.</p><p>“Won’t be nothing,” Harley says quietly, into the silence of the hallway.  “Just lunch.  Just- gets lonely, and you’re good company.  Can keep up with me.”</p><p>The words are such a match for Tony’s words that Peter almost chokes on air.  But they are fair.  There probably aren’t many people who could keep up with Harley Keener, the only other surviving mentee of the smartest man in the world.  “Yeah,” Peter says, thinking of the taste of carbonara and endless breadsticks, and the fierce rage in Harley’s eyes as he’d spat about string theory and Sheldon fucking Cooper making it so everyone always treated Harley like he didn’t understand regular people and regular people’s motivations.</p><p>“Yeah?” asks Harley, like he’s trying not to look too eager.  </p><p>“Yeah,” confirms Peter, with finality.  “See you tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’m up with the birds, always have been,” Harley tells him seriously.  “You just come down when you’re ready, I’ll be there.”</p><p>“I’m a night owl,” Peter confesses.</p><p>“Yeah, figured,” says Harley, nodding.  “See you then.”</p><p>“See you, Harley,” says Peter softly, slipping into his room to shut the door and lean back against it, heart pounding.</p><p>He really needs to talk to Tony.</p><p>~~~</p><p>After the first day together go so well, both of them unsticking each other on their papers and projects, it only makes sense to spend the next day together in Harley’s lab, too, Peter carting over his projects to the empty workbench Harley clears off for him.  When Peter wanders down, Harley’s already cursing and throwing things, but that’s okay, because he also wanders off well before Peter’s ready to be done for the day, citing exhaustion and a need for a shower.  The rhythm lasts through Finals Week and the first day of break, most of the rest of the University long gone towards home.</p><p>“Hey, c’mere,” says Harley unexpectedly.  “Let’s go up, take a walk, shake off some of my jitters before I head out tomorrow for home.”</p><p>Peter smiles easily at him and teases, “Outside the walls of the hall of science?!  Harley!  Genius such as ours doesn’t <em>belong</em> with the peons!”</p><p>“You know how I feel about that bullshit, Peter Parker,” threatens Harley, frowning playfully and pointing a stern finger at Peter.  “And I’m not asking, I’m telling.  Get up.”</p><p>It twists something inside Peter, that tone of voice, here, in the lab, with Tony and the privacy cage so close.  He stands up, catching the way Harley grins, and rolls his eyes.  “C’mon, Parker, let’s walk,” says Harley, locking up the lab behind them and half pushing, half dragging Peter to the stairs and out into the world.</p><p>“Fuck, I forgot about sunshine,” complains Peter, squinting.</p><p>“That’s a serious concern,” Harley tells him, smiling.  “Gonna have t’start takin’ you on regular walks, like a dog, Parker.  Y’r getting <em>thin </em>on me, darlin’.  Losin’ all that supersexy muscle.”</p><p><em>When had that become normal, Harley slipping that endearment in at the end of sentences,</em> Peter thinks to himself as Harley leads the way through streets bedecked with holiday cheer.</p><p>He doesn’t know.  He doesn’t know when it had begun, but he does know he isn’t going to stop it.</p><p>He really, really needs to talk to Tony.</p><p>Harley goes home tomorrow.  Maybe he can slip in a visit tonight, after Harley leaves for the day.</p><p>
“Parker, catch up,” calls Harley, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.  “Black Scholes can wait, we’re officially on a break.”</p><p>Peter smiles and speeds up.</p><p><em>Tonight.</em>
</p><p>~~~</p><p>“You’ve dropped weight,” Tony tells him quietly, arms wrapped around Peter tightly, anchoring Peter in space and time, pulling him down to Earth.</p><p>“A little,” admits Peter.</p><p>“We have rules, Mr. Parker,” says Tony sternly.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” agrees Peter, heart speeding up just a little.  He’s programmed Tony, he knows- he knows what that meant, it meant the man wasn’t going to let him- the <em>real</em> Tony had never once let him get away with-</p><p>“Rules first,” says Tony firmly, and Peter swallows, clinging just a little closer.  “Anything else you need to confess, you can do while you’re over my knee.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” breathes Peter, his eyes filling just a little.  <em>God</em>, he’d missed this.  It’d only been a week, but the way Tony just- just <em>knew</em> what would help, knew what would help and said it, even if no one else in the world would understand it.  Never any judgement, never any question of judgement, he had just- just provided.</p><p>Tony steers him to the small twin bed and sits, frowning up at Peter as Peter unbuttons his pants and throws himself across Tony’s lap, eager to get this part over with.</p><p><em>Smack</em>- <em>smack- smacksmack</em>, hits Tony’s hand harshly, and calibrating <em>that</em> had been a bitch, because Peter’d only ever been on the receiving end and so he’d never really paid attention to the forces used.  </p><p>Peter’s gasping out the first of his apologies when the cage door is flung open and Harley shouts, “What in the <em>hell</em>, Parker?!”</p><p>Tony looks up and snaps, “Privacy means <em>you don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted, Harley.</em>”</p><p>“Pause program,” spits Harley.  “What the <em>fuck</em>?”</p><p>Peter can’t breathe, he can’t think, and he definitely can’t talk to Harley with his pants around his ankles.  He scrambles into them and then sits on the floor, beside the hologram’s leg, shaking and unable to think, unable to look up, unable to <em>begin</em> to do anything but gasp for breath and choke on air and embarrassment. </p><p>“Are you okay?” asks Harley, real concern in his voice.  “I toldja, there’s something glitchy, I thought you’d wait, ‘til I- oh.  Oh, <em>shit</em>, Parker, I-”</p><p>“It’s not-” begins Peter in a sob, but what- what the fuck is he going to say?  To Harley?</p><p>“Just gimme a second here to catch up, darlin’ because that’s- this’s- this’s not what I- <em>oh my God</em>, I thought that section was <em>FRIDAY</em>, Parker. I thought <em>she’d</em>-”</p><p>“It was me,” breathes Peter, in this room where he can tell the truth, the whole truth, all of it, because what is he supposed to say, what is he supposed to let Harley think?  Harley Keener, Tony’s other protege?  If there’s anyone on earth who could know Peter’s identity and be expected to carry this little Stark secret, it’s Harley Keener.</p><p>There’s a long pause then, before Harley says softly, in a hard voice, “It ain’t right, using Tony’s memory like this, Peter.”</p><p>Peter can’t help the hysterical sob that flees his body.  He’d flee his body, too, if he could.  He knows.  He knows it isn’t.  He knows it, he does.  He doesn’t need Harley fucking Keener pointing it out, poking knives in old wounds so recently scabbed over.</p><p>“Hey, hey,” says Harley, his voice getting closer, until he’s so close that Peter can’t tune out the man’s heartbeat, racing with who knew what emotion, what <em>thoughts</em>.  Peter curls into himself, arms wrapping around his legs and drawing them up, resting his cheek on his knees.  “Hey, I said that wrong, Parker.  I didn’t mean-”</p><p>Peter snorts and then hiccupps.  “I know I’m sick, Keener.  I know-”</p><p>
“You don’t know anything,” says Harley firmly.  “What I meant was, if what you need’s an older, smarter man to tell you ‘no’ and smack your nose, kiss your boo boos when they hurt, I’m right here, Parker, and it ain’t a secret that you’re pretty cute, darlin’.  Or that I’m <em>interested</em>.  Least, it shouldn’t be a secret, I know I ain’t been hiding nothing.  That’s all, that’s what I meant.”</p><p>Peter freezes for a very long moment, eyes closed tightly shut.</p><p>Harley’s hand rests gently on his head, sliding down beneath his cheek, lifting his head up and rubbing at the tear tracks.  “What I <em>meant</em> was, I don’t want my <em>program</em> takin’ care of you, if that’s what you need, Peter Parker.  People need <em>people</em>, not <em>programs</em>.”</p><p>“I don’t- I don’t-” gasps Peter, shaking again with shock, his fingertips trembling and his butt barely glowing from the beginning stages of Tony setting him straight on self-care.  </p><p>“You do, Peter Parker,” breathes Harley, leaning forward, his hands warm everywhere they touch Peter’s face neck.  “You’re a person, Peter Parker, an amazing person, and I been watchin’ you, and you need just as much as the rest of us, y’ain’t anything new under the sun that way, darlin’.  At least let me try.  I know I ain’t him, but y’shouldn’t be going to a machine.  Not for this- this whatever it is.  Let me try.”</p><p>Peter’s chest tightens like a vise cranks it, crushing it beyond all repair. “Harley,” he chokes out.</p><p>“Yeah, Parker, I got you, I can- I can’t be him, you know that, and I know that, but- but I can <em>try</em> better than anyone else on Earth, if you let me.”</p><p>Peter’s head whirls.</p><p>“Not tonight, Parker,” whispers Harley.  “Ain’t right, tonight.  But I’ll, I’ll call and cancel them tickets, or you- you can come home with me- and we’ll- not tonight, Peter.  But let me try.  You can always- <em>always</em>- come back here, I won’t- I won’t stop you.”</p><p>Peter gasps, tears starting in his eyes again.</p><p>“Ahh, now, darlin’, I can’t- you got me all helpless-like, I don’t- don’t cry, darlin’, please, I’m beggin’ you, we’ll fix it, we will, so you get whatever it is you need, even if it ain’t from me, I’m setting on <em>helpin’</em> and I mean to,” declares Harley in a fierce whisper, his face inches from Peter’s.</p><p>Peter grabs for Harley’s certainty, his confidence, his- just like Tony’s- his belief that there isn’t anything about Peter that’s so wrong it can’t be accepted. He lifts his head and looks up blearily at Harley, sniffing back tears and snot and flinching away from the knowledge of how he must <em>look</em>, right now, what Harley must have <em>seen.</em></p><p>“They’re big shoes,” Harley tells him quietly, his face as serious and grave as Peter has ever seen it.  “They’re big shoes, Peter.  But at least let me slip ‘em on and try walkin’ a mile.”</p><p>Peter stares up at him for a long moment that stretches tight, the glowing light of the program paused beside him distracting out of the corner of his eye.  He sniffs again and his cheeks flame as he says, “You can <em>try</em>.”</p><p>“‘S’all I ask,” whispers Harley, his chin clenching a moment with who-knows-what-thoughts, his eyes flashing briefly, too.  He grins the smallest grin Peter had ever seen on his face and adds, “Not like it’ll be a hardship, darlin’.  You’re real cute, you know that?  Real distractin’ly cute.”</p><p>Peter rolls his eyes as Harley chuckles, his eyes beginning to twinkle with their customary gleam of mischief and delight.  “‘Sides, I’m eight whole months older’n you.  I fit all the checkboxes.  Bet it’ll work out just fine.”</p><p>“Shut up,” gasps Peter, the vise grip on his chest loosening with a sudden inrush of air, making him lightheaded.  “You’re such a jerk.”</p><p>“Yeah, but you’re gonna love it,” Harley says with confidence that buzzes against Peter’s frayed nerves gently, softening and soothing the sting of his discovery.</p><p>“This was supposed to be a privacy cell,” Peter accuses him, resting his head back on the bed behind him.  “I was assured my privacy.”</p><p>“Well sure, but I thought I was saving you from a glitchy Tony program,” Harley tells him, shrugging.</p><p>Peter snorts.</p><p>“Not my fault I shoulda been in New York years ago, saving you from a glitchy Tony,” says Harley slyly.  “You really let him take you out to the woodshed like that?”</p><p>Peter flushes and figures if he’s going to let Harley try, the same rules about full disclosure and complete honesty are the only way to give Harley a fair chance at succeeding.  “I’d let that man take me to Titan, and beyond, and anywhere he wanted,” he tells Harley firmly, looking Harley directly in the eye despite the blush that creeps up his cheeks again.</p><p>Harley whistles, his eyes twinkling and his grin stretching ear to ear.  “Well, hot damn, darlin’ sign me up to go steppin’ out in those shoes, too,” he tells Peter, laughing when Peter punches him in the shoulder. </p><p>“Abuse!” he laughs, pulling Peter up to stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and pulling Peter close.  “Abuse,” he whispers, eyes alight with humor, resting their foreheads together, “this cute guy I’d do anything for’s <em>hitting</em> me instead of hittin’ <em>on</em> me!”</p><p>Peter rolls his eyes and then bites his lip, unable to blink or look away from Harley’s twinkling eyes.  </p><p>
“Pretty sure that’s sass,” teases Harley.  “And I don’t know how Tony felt about it, darlin’, but you’re gonna learn how I do, real fast.”</p><p>Peter feels a little grin creep up from his heart.  “Yeah, he never could figure out the right deterrent for sass,” he tells Harley, letting the grin free.</p><p>“Good thing I’m in the shoes, now, then,” Harley tells him, and then he takes a deep breath, as if for courage, and leans in, and kisses Peter.</p><p>One more skill Tony and his oldest protege have in common, thinks Peter, as the kiss sweeps him away in shock.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Mr. Keener, Mr. Keener, over here, if you please!”</p><p>“Mr. Parker!  Peter, a moment, one question, please!”</p><p>“Please, Mr. Keener!”</p><p>“Mr. Parker!”</p><p>The cacophony of reporters fall silent as Harley holds up a single hand, two fingers lifted, such a Tony gesture that Peter almost laughs and Pepper does snort.  “You,” he says, pointing to the redheaded woman in the front.  “One question.”</p><p>She frowns and then launches, “At the press conference this morning, you stated that you’d be taking the reins of Stark R&amp;D to continue the legacy of the late Tony Stark.  What in the world makes you think you’re ready to step into those big shoes so soon after graduating college?”</p><p>Harley stares at her for a full second before spitting, “The size of my damn <em>feet</em>, woman.”</p><p>Peter and Pepper both burst out laughing, as Happy opens the door to the car, his head shaking and grin as wide and true to his name as Peter’d ever seen it.</p><p>As he closes the door, Harley snarls at both of them, “Well <em>honestly</em>, what the fuck did she <em>expect</em> me to say?”</p><p>“Harley Keener,” sighs Pepper, “<em>you</em> are a PR nightmare.  That soundbyte is going to make world news tonight.”</p><p>“Well, good,” says Harley mulishly, glaring at the reporters.  “Damn idiots.  It’ll teach ‘em to stop asking me dumbass questions.”</p><p>Peter leans over and kisses his cheek.  “They are <em>a really good size</em>, Harley.”</p><p>Pepper rolls her eyes and taps the partition.  “Happy, as soon as we can, I’m coming up to sit by you and let the lovebirds have their honeymoon snuggles in the backseat.”</p><p>“Sounds good, Ms. Potts,” replies Happy, unconcerned.</p><p>“They’re really good feet,” Peter tells Harley in a stage whisper, just to make Pepper roll her eyes again.</p><p>“They were really good shoes,” Harley tells him, winking.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Summary: Tony Stark is dead, and Peter is not handling his grief well.  Harley builds a Tony program into a version of the BARF software (remember that? Tony used it to share his last memory of his dad in the movies).  Because Tony and Peter had a domestic discipline sexual relationship when Tony was alive, Peter has to go in and do a little tweaking to the program to get it to act like the Tony <i> he</i> knew and loved.  During one of his sessions with Tony, Harley interrupts and then Peter finds out...</p><p>Wait a damn minute.  There's nothing triggering after that.  You'll have to read up and find out.  Happy ending, though.</p><p>You can find me most often in the Writer Buddies Discord server, in the Trigger Warning section, and there's a good chance I'll be dropping snippets at some point if you lurk long enough!<br/><a href="https://discord.gg/4KWWccK">WriterBuddies</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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